


The Lamp

by MindNoise



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 09:22:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindNoise/pseuds/MindNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy buys an old, dull lamp and gets more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lamp

**Author's Note:**

  * For [I_glitterz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_glitterz/gifts).



> This started with an email from i_glitterz asking me to tell her a story. And this is what happened.....

Tommy strolls along the sidewalk, the sun beating down on him. It’s hot and he’s sweaty. He’s been out shopping for the sum total of an hour, trying to find something for his sister’s birthday. He hates shopping. He usually buys her something online, but this year he wants to get something personal, something a little more special than a gift card. What that something is, he has no idea. And nothing’s jumping out at him as he wanders past and in and out of stores. Fuck, he hates this shit. 

A slight breeze kicks up, teasing his blond hair, then it dies. It wasn’t even enough to pretend to cool the sweat off him. He lets out a cranky huff. Maybe he’d just fall back on the gift card again this year, buy her something “personal” next year. 

The door of a shop opens and a lady walks out in front of him, the cold air from the store’s air conditioner trailing her, breezing by Tommy’s face. He looks at the door. Antiquities. He’s not into antiques in the least but it’s air conditioned in there. He could just cool off before heading home. Who knows, maybe he’ll find something his sister might like. 

Tommy steps into the store, the door shutting behind him. He relishes the sudden feel of sweat evaporating from his skin, leaving chill bumps in its place. He feels like he can breathe deep again.

It’s a dim shop. Of course. Has anyone ever seen a brightly lit antiques store in the movies? It’s filled to every available corner with what Tommy terms “junk.” Sure, one man’s junk is another man’s treasure, and all that. He looks around, seeing no one in the store. Not other customers, not the owner or a manager, no one. Tommy shrugs to himself and moves into the store, no direction in mind, but sort of browsing. What he hopes looks like browsing. He’s not ready to leave the coolness just yet. 

His gaze brushes over items, but he doesn’t touch anything. There’s no real order to the place. He sees a large clock lies on top of an old floor stereo and record player. Tarnished necklaces hang around chipped statues. Old vinyl records that should be paired with the floor standing stereo/record player sit in an old rocking chair. Magnifying glasses and weathered books, their titles long worn away from the spines, sit on a dull bookshelf standing next to an ancient wooden butter churn, a rusty bicycle propped up against it. 

This is just random crap, he thinks. Who really wants this stuff?

He squints in the dim light, sneezes in the dust, and wrinkles his nose at the musty smell that permeates the shop. The smell of mold gives anyone a headache and Tommy is no exception. He ponders the pros and cons of leaving the air conditioned space when another scent tickles his nose. It’s spicy, like sandalwood. Not the overly manufactured scent found in body washes and air fresheners, but the real and rare oil with a soft and cloying scent. He begins to move to the back of the shop, following the scent, like he’s being lured. To a specific table. To a lamp. 

Tommy stares at it. It looks like one of the old fabled Aladdin’s lamps. There’s nothing special about it. Its dull, like everything else in the store, and its dingy gold is unappealing. Still, it’s sort of neat. He leans his nose down to the lamp. He can just catch a hint of sandalwood surrounding it. He suddenly feels the need to possess the lamp, unattractive as it is. Maybe he could polish the lamp. Maybe that would brighten it.

And when I polish it, the genie will pop out and give me wishes, Tommy snorts to himself. 

Tommy picks it up, a shock shooting through his finger with an audible pop as it makes contact with his skin. He winces.

Must’ve picked up some static electricity, he reasons. Sounds plausible to him. But if he’d bothered to think about it, he would realize there is no carpet in the store.

“Ah, I see the lamp has chosen you,” an aged voice speaks from behind him.

Startled, Tommy turns around. An elderly gentleman stands behind him. Gentleman. That’s what the man looks like. Tall stature, gray hair, nice shirt with pinstriped vest and matching pants. He’s even wearing a silver pocket watch. And he’s smiling affectionately at Tommy. 

“Well.... whatever,” Tommy replies. Chosen? “How much is it?” 

His sister will probably like it if he polishes it before he gives it to her. It is different and he bets she won’t be getting another one of these at her birthday party. She likes old trinkets and things, she’ll probably like this. Score one for Tommy Joe, Super Brother. 

The owner quotes him a ridiculously low price and Tommy buys it, almost feeling bad for paying so little, but fuck it. The owner wraps the lamp in dark blue tissue paper and places it carefully in a black paper bag with Antiquities embossed in silver on the front. 

Fancy bag for a place full of crap, Tommy muses, then remembers he just bought his sister crap from this store. He takes the bag and leaves, glad to be done with birthday shopping. 

When he gets home, Tommy drops the bag onto the couch, and goes to the kitchen to get a beer and cold pizza. He forgets the item in his living room entirely. 

 

Tommy smells sandalwood in his sleep. He sighs and his heart skips a beat. The scent surrounds him, caresses him. He awakens. No, he doesn’t just awaken. He’s pulled from sleep, like he’s been called. He gets up and goes to the living room, straight to the couch and picks up the discarded bag. He sits and pulls out the lamp and carefully begins to unravel the tissue paper. Snickering at himself, he rubs the side of it. 

Nothing happens. No smoke. No flashing lights. No genie. 

He huffs at his silliness. A genie. 

No more tequila shots and beer chasers late at night for you, buddy, he chides. 

Still, he feels kind of ..... let down? Was he actually hoping a genie was in there? Some magical being that would do his bidding, give him whatever he desires? Or has he just been alone too long? Barring a few dates that were not serious in the least, Tommy’s been single and chaste for almost two years. He just hasn’t felt a connection with anyone. And he hasn’t felt the need to make any sort of effort, which has left him fairly lonely and tired. 

And then there’s the drama of keeping a band together and getting it the fuck off the ground, not to mention making it a decent success, which can’t be done when they keep falling apart. Being a full time guitar player has been his dream since he was a child. But it’s been harder than he dreamed to make it happen, which puts him in a slump every time it fails. Depression from being lonely as well just adds to that slump, which depresses him even more. It’s a vicious cycle he can’t see his way out of yet. He just wants to get something out of life.

Tommy blows out a long, disappointed sigh directly onto the lamp. He nearly faints when a thick, iridescent haze appears and floats off of it. The haze settles itself in front of Tommy, clearing away to become a tall dark haired man standing in front of him, wearing only dark purple harem pants. His skin shines, like it’s covered in glitter. His eyes are lined in dark black which highlights the blue in them, and his lips are the tiniest bit glossy but natural. He’s stunning. 

“Hello.” The dark being’s smile is ridiculously perfect. 

“Hey,” Tommy’s voice is barely a whisper. He’s so stunned that he feels like he’s floating. 

“I’m Adam,” the man says. “The genie of the lamp. And you are the master.”

Tommy’s brain fumbles. “I’m who?”

“The master,” Adam repeats.

Tommy stares at him. 

Adam’s smile widens. “Perhaps you could give me your name? Or will Master suffice?”

Tommy’s eyes bug out. “Tommy,” he stammers. “Call me Tommy.”

Adam’s head bows toward Tommy. “I’m honored to be of service to you, Tommy.”

Tommy is still sitting on the couch, his head tilted up to stare at the unearthly creature suddenly invading his space and he nearly chokes on his own spit sliding to the back of his throat. Is he really awake? He must be dreaming. He really should stop drinking before bed.

Tommy closes his eyes and shakes his head slightly. He opens his eyes slightly, just to peek, see if this is a hallucination. Nope. Hot Adam genie still standing there, patiently staring down at him.

“This has to be a dream,” Tommy says, laughing.

“What has to be a dream?” Adam asks.

“You,” Tommy states. “You’re not real.”

“How am I not real?” Adam asks. 

Tommy stares at him. “Because....” Tommy falters, having no idea what to say. 

Adam smiles again, his skin glowing. 

“What are you?” Tommy asks, entranced by the blue light emanating from Adam’s eyes. 

“I told you, a genie,” Adam answers. “Your genie.”

“Are you gonna grant me wishes?” Tommy asks. He means to sound condescending, but he really just sounds baffled. 

“If you like,” Adam says. 

Tommy nods, gaze still fixed on Adam’s.

“What do you want, Tommy?” Adam asks softly.

Tommy can think of a hundred things he wants right now and they all involve Adam stark naked. All he has to do is drop those purple pants. Which are really kind of hot sitting low on Adam’s hips, drawing a line between his flat stomach and his.... 

Wonder if his cock is just as magical, Tommy wonders, feeling his own cock twitch. 

Adam smirks as if he’s reading Tommy’s thoughts.

Tommy clears his throat. 

Wishes. What do people usually want? Money? Fame? Those are probably the most common. 

“You came from a lamp,” Tommy states, completely veering away from the topic of wishes. 

Adam nods. 

“You live inside the lamp?” he asks.

“More like I surround the lamp, in a sleep,” Adam explains. “I can feel my surroundings, those nearby, and I reveal myself to those I choose.”

“How do you choose?”

“I just know,” Adam says. “And there’s a spark. You probably felt it, too.”

Tommy remembers he felt a shock when he touched the lamp. He’d dismissed it as static electricity. Apparently it was Adam choosing him. 

“My chosen will also smell a particular scent that won’t reach anyone else,” Adam continues.

“Sandalwood,” Tommy says, nodding.

“Yes,” Adam says, smiling. “And it will call to you until you come to me.”

“How long do you stay?” Tommy asks, fascinated. How long can I keep you, is what he’s really asking. 

“Time is not important,” Adam replies. “Now, Tommy, what do you desire? What can I give you?”

Adam’s tone drops just enough to spread a heat through Tommy. Tommy’s cock hardens a little at Adam’s tone, his gaze. It’s intense and his blue eyes are fucking glowing. Well if this is a dream, he should just go with it. 

“I ran out of beer earlier,” Tommy states. “Make more appear.”

Adam’s brow furrows. “Really? That’s what you want, beer?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says.

Adam gives a slight nod. 

Tommy looks at him expectantly. “Well?”

Adam tilts his head to the side, his eyes following the movement. Tommy looks down to his right. A six pack of beer is sitting next to him on the couch. Tommy doesn’t move, but his nerves jump. 

He looks back at Adam. “Okay. Um... thanks.”

Adam waits. 

“Well, I’ve always wanted a motorcycle,” Tommy says. 

Adams eyes narrow. “Alright.”

“Aren’t you gonna snap your fingers or wave your hands or something?” Tommy asks.

“Why?” Adam asks.

“To... make stuff appear,” Tommy sputters.

“I’m not a magician,” Adam says flatly. “I’m a genie. You can look outside.”

Tommy gets up and walks to the window, pulling aside the curtain. In his small, dirt driveway sits a sleek black and sliver bike, the moonlight glinting off its wax finish. Tommy’s mouth falls open. He lets the curtain drop back into place and slowly turns to Adam.

“Are we done with the parlor tricks?” Adam’s annoyance is evident. 

Tommy nods. He shuffles back to the couch, glancing at Adam apologetically. He picks up the beer and sets it on the table, and sits back down in front of Adam.

“Now there must be something I can do for you,” Adam says. “Something you truly want, need.” Adam’s mouth lifts into a half smile. “Something that’s not beer or an overpriced toy.” 

Tommy’s gaze slides down Adam’s chest. He inwardly sighs, thinking of cuddling his face in the dip where soft, fine hair is nestled. He wonders what it would be like to bury his face in that soft hollow and breathe Adam in. To nuzzle his way down to Adam’s stomach, nipping the waistband of those harem pants, slowly dragging them down. Just to feel someone again... 

“I know what I want,” Tommy says in a slur. It flies out of his mouth before he realizes it. He clamps his mouth shut, and eyes wide, he snaps his gaze back to Adam’s face. Adam doesn’t look shocked, though. Or offended. On the contrary. Adam is glowing. Everywhere. 

“And what would that be, Master?” Adam asks, each word punctuated by predatory heat in his tone. He kneels in front of Tommy. 

Tommy’s brain is having a hard time connecting with his mouth. Speaking of hard.... 

Adam’s hands slide up Tommy’s legs, his thighs and rest on his hips. His eyes never leave Tommy’s. Adam smiles. 

“May I?” he asks. 

Tommy nods, afraid to speak. Afraid Adam will disappear at the slightest noise.

Adam slides his hands under Tommy’s shirt, pushing it up to his shoulders. His thumbs find Tommy’s nipples and rub them slowly, no real pressure in the touch, just a kiss of a caress. It sends a single shiver up Tommy’s spine. 

There’s a gleam in Adam’s eyes as he leans down. He runs the tip of his tongue around Tommy’s belly button. Tommy’s cock jumps. Adam circles his belly button one more time, then trails up his stomach, his chest, and around a nipple. Tommy begins to tingle all over. He tries not to breathe, afraid this will all vanish if he even breathes too hard. 

When Adam looks up, his face is so close to Tommy’s that Tommy lets out an involuntary gasp at his beauty. Fuck, he’s unreal. Adam is still thumbing one of his nipples. 

“Can I...” Tommy wants to touch Adam. Badly. He can’t make himself form the words, though. Can’t ask permission from this unearthly being. 

“Touch me, Tommy,” Adam whispers. “Anywhere.”

Tommy feels lightheaded. He places his hands on Adam’s face. Taking a breath, he pulls Adam to him. When their lips meet, the shock Tommy felt earlier, the spark as Adam called it, pops again. Then his tongue is licking Adam’s in earnest. He moans, his cock hardening more, and slides his hands over Adam’s neck, shoulders, down his back, feeling warm, bare skin wherever he can reach. Adam tastes like peppermint and lavender. 

Adam breaks the kiss, nuzzling the soft spot behind Tommy’s ear. His hands slide down to Tommy’s pants, pushing them down. Tommy lifts his hips and Adam slides the pants to his ankles and out of the way. Adam’s mouth begins making its way back down Tommy’s torso. Tommy yanks his shirt off, then buries his hands in Adam’s thick hair, watching. He can damn near feel Adam’s mouth on his cock already and he pants in anticipation. When Adam’s mouth encloses the head, Tommy’s eyes slide close and he releases a loud groan. 

Adam sucks and slides Tommy all the way down his throat in one swallow. Tommy nearly comes undone. He gasps and groans at the same time, fingers tightening in Adam’s hair. He watches Adam’s head move up and down in sensual motions. He grabs Tommy by the hips and pulls so that Tommy slides toward him, ass off the couch. It’s awkward for Tommy’s neck, but he doesn’t care. As far as he’s concerned, Adam can break him in half if he just keeps sucking like this. 

Adam’s hands slide under Tommy’s thighs and he lifts them up, placing Tommy’s feet on his shoulders. Tommy lets his legs fall to the side more, opening himself to Adam. He feels fingers on his balls, tracing, caressing each one, while another finger inches its way around his hole. Adam still sucking him leisurely. 

Tommy’s breath hitches when the finger slides in easily, probing gently, circling slowly. Until it finds that spot, that one spot that makes the world explode in the best possible way. Adam presses into that spot with a tickling motion, and Tommy sees stars, even his brain tingles. His cock jumps in Adam’s mouth. His feet curl into Adam’s shoulders, his toes pinching the skin. Adam is relentless. Tommy’s mouth falls open and he’s going to come and he doesn’t want to just yet, but he doesn’t want to stop it, either. He can feel it climbing its way from his spine to his groin, and he lets out a panicked moan.

Adam relinquishes his assault on Tommy’s prostate to add another finger, prying him open. His other hand grasps the base of Tommy’s cock, forcing back the orgasm. Tommy breathes deep and fast. His hold on Adam’s hair loosens and lets go when Adam releases his cock, licking the shaft and kissing the tip. 

Adam pushes Tommy’s feet so that his legs slide over Adam’s shoulders. He pulls Tommy off the couch and when he settles Tommy gently onto his lap, it’s directly onto his cock. He pushes his hips up while pressing Tommy down. Tommy holds his breath.

“Breathe, Tommy,” Adam says. “I need you to breathe.” 

Tommy tries short, sharp breaths and Adam inches him further down. Tommy didn’t get a look at Adam before being impaled, but judging by the feel, Adam’s cock is as thick as a tree trunk and a mile long. Tommy grips Adam’s arms, his fingernails digging into the skin. His legs slide off Adam’s shoulders and dangle by Adam’s upper arms, the tension in Tommy’s body holding them there. Adam kisses him along the side of his face, his temple. 

“Good. That’s good,” he whispers. “Relax, we’re almost there.” 

Tommy bites his lower lip. If Adam’s dick isn’t in all the way soon, he’s going to scream. On top of that, he’s bent in half and has no control over anything and who knew he was this flexible. And then he’s fully seated. The anxiety that was welling up suddenly abates as Adam stills and just holds him close. Tommy is stretched and full to the point of weird pain, but it’s bearable and he knows it’s going to get better once they start moving. For the moment, he turns his face into Adam’s neck and breathes him in. He smells the same light sandalwood that’s been teasing him and magic.

I’m breathing in magic, he thinks, and a warmth floods his soul. 

Adam moves then. Tommy hangs on while Adam pushes up into him. Tommy can’t do much with his knees around his ears, but he pulses his hips to Adam’s rhythm as best he can. It’s almost like riding a wave and the rhythm becomes sensual and steady. Tommy relaxes, losing himself in feeling it, feeling Adam in him, all around him. He’s being loved from the inside out, and from the outside in, and his mind can’t tell where he ends and Adam begins. 

Adam pulls him as close as possible, pressing Tommy into him and holding him tight. Adam’s touch and the way he moves are overwhelming, and Tommy buries his face in Adam’s neck even more. He hasn’t been wanted like this in so long. He’s not sure he’s ever been desired like this, come to think of it. He licks up Adam’s neck and into his mouth. Adam devours him with one kiss, one stroke upward. 

Tommy manages to pull back from Adam’s mouth and feebly tries to get a hand between them and onto his cock. Adam blocks it. 

“No,” he says. “You’re going to come like this.” 

Tommy opens his mouth to say he’s never come without a hand on his dick, but Adam chooses that moment to press and slide against his prostate and Tommy’s head falls back and his eyes roll back and close.

Adam’s right. He is going to come like this. He can feel it building. The feeling is so delicious that Tommy goes limp and Adam keeps working his ass. 

“Come with me,” Tommy moans. “I want you to come with me.”

“As you wish,” Adam pants. 

He bites down on the bend between Tommy’s neck and shoulder. Tommy’s orgasm roars through him like an out of control train. It’s so blinding he can’t make a sound, but his mind is calling Adam’s name. He can feel pulsing warmth inside him at the same time he feels it pulsing out of him. Adam came with him. 

Adam lifts Tommy and lays him on the couch, gently unfolding his legs to stretch. Tommy can feel the blood throbbing in every vein throughout his body. He stares at Adam drunkenly. Adam smiles and strokes his hair, his face. 

“Now you’re gonna leave,” Tommy states. “Aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that?” Adam asks.

“That was three wishes,” Tommy points out. “Isn’t that all I get?”

Adam sighs and rolls his eyes. He mutters something that sounds like, Damn stories.

“I go to whom I choose,” Adam tells him. “And I stay as long as I choose.” 

“Why did you choose me?” It’s as good a time as any to ask. “Why me?”

Adam smiles, still petting him. “I want to change your life.”

“How?” he asks. “Don’t get me wrong, sex with you has definitely ruined me for anyone else, but how is it going to change my life?”

“You have a gift that hasn’t been able to find its way out to the world yet. I’m going to give you that doorway,” Adam says. 

“Huh?” Tommy’s reply is less than intelligent, but he’s having trouble processing this. 

“I have dreams, too,” Adam tells him. “Just like humans, genies have wishes. My wish is to sing. And I need a band, don’t I?” 

Well isn’t this all perfect, Tommy thinks. Fuck, I knew this was a dream. 

“It’s no dream, I promise,” Adam says. “In the morning, 7:36 to be precise, you will get a call from your agent telling you he’s booked you an audition to play bass for a singer who is starting out.”

“I don’t play bass,” Tommy says flatly, his heart dropping. 

“You will when you walk into the audition,” Adam assures him. “Don’t worry, you’ll move permanently to lead guitar. But for a while, for my own glam rock purposes, I’m going to need you on bass.” 

The smirk on Adam’s face makes Tommy wonder what the hell he means by glam rock purposes. Is that even a real term? He looks as though he wants to eat Tommy, and in a good way. 

Tommy snorts. “Look, this was all amazing, but I don’t believe you’re gonna make me a star, especially when I don’t even play the instrument you say I’ll be hired to play.”

He really wants to believe it, though. Damn it.

Adam kisses him, soft and loving, and places a hand over his eyes. “Sleep, Tommy. We’re going to make a dazzling pair on stage, you and I.”

 

Tommy hears a shrill ring in the distance. It’s insistent, pausing for three seconds, then trilling again. Tommy pulls himself out of sleep, groggy and cranky. He’s lying on the couch, naked. 

What the fuck did I do last night, he wonders.

He sits up, planting his feet on the floor, his left foot knocking into something hard and cold. The lamp. The lamp he bought his sister and then he blew on it and a genie ..... Tommy marveled at how real the dream seemed. 

Great, now I sleepwalk, he thinks. 

The phone rings again. Tommy looks at the clock. 

Who the hell is calling me at..... 7:36 in the morning? 

“Tommy, I’ve got an audition set up for you,” his agent launches before Tommy even says hello. 

“Okay, great,” Tommy replies. “When?”

“Today, noon.”

“I can’t, man. I have to work.” Tommy says. 

“You’ll call in sick,” his agent says. “It’s for a pop/rock singer, wants to put together a kind of glam band, like Queen or David Bowie or some such. You’ll have to audition for bass, though. He’s already got lead guitar.”

Remembering the night before, Tommy’s heart speeds up. Adam had said he would know how to play bass when he went to the audition. And the audition is real.... Maybe it hadn’t been a dream at all. Maybe this really is it, his chance, his break....

“Who’s the singer?” he asks, practically whispering, staring at the lamp lying on the floor. 

“New guy, young, very talented, showed up outta nowhere and makes the heavens weep when he opens his mouth,” he hears the agent flipping through papers. “Ah, here it is. Adam. Adam Lambert.”


End file.
